YAYA DEL MARI...

I wasn't your father,

but for a brief time in our lives

you were my daughter.

Did you lack for anything?

Didn't I devote many hours to you?

Didn't I impart good advice to you,

particularly regarding the art of tipping?

When you smash a winner down the line,

do you remember who taught you tennis?

Did I ask for anything in return?

No. Nothing.

To hear you call me "Daddy-O"

with a warmth that welled from your heart

more than recompensed my love for you.

JOEY LOPEZ FINDS ERASMO CASTRO'S MAGA MIERDA HILARIOUS!!!

 

IF DONALD TRUMP WERE CAMERON COUNTY JUDGE!!!

The young woman walked  into the county courthouse and bowed before the powerful politico.

"I need a job," she pleaded.

He looked at her tiny figure and her cleavage caught his attention.

"If you want a job, you are going to have to fuck me first," he said.

She gasped as she pressed her hands against her chest.

"But I thought you were a happily married man," she said. "I saw the picture of your wife and handsome son in the paper and I thought to myself that you must have the perfect family."

A scornful laugh issued from his mustachioed face.

"There are two realities," he pronounced in a mocking voice. "There is the public reality in which I provide for you and there is the private reality in which you provide for me. If you want a job, you have to fuck me."

"But I remember you saying during your campaign that nothing fulfills you more than helping the less fortunate."

A hoarse sound escaped his throat.

"You stupid little bitch. Nothing would fulfill me more than filling you. Besides, I can't help those who can't help themselves. Either you fuck me or get the fuck out of my face."

She was poor and uneducated, but she had a pretty face and a seductive body, two features that hadn't been lost on the politico.

"Where?" she asked.

"Follow me to my office," he commanded. "When we finish, you can fill out a job application."

Together they took the elevator to the top floor. 

SOLDIER WRITES HOME FROM THE BORDER

Dear Mother,

I'm sorry that I haven't written, but I have been so fascinated, intoxicated might be the better word, since the army assigned me to South Texas that I have been living in a daze. I never thought I would feel like a foreigner in my own country, but outside Fort Brown, I hear more Spanish than English. I'm not complaining. I wouldn't trade this experience for any in the world. Nevertheless, as we move closer towards the 20th century, I feel I could be living in a place that is in the 18th century. Take out the map I sent you in my last letter and accompany me on this imaginary journey.

Point Isabel, separated from the Gulf of Mexico by South Padre Island, is a thriving little town of 500 inhabitants charmingly situated on the Laguna Madre. It is a favorite and well-patronized summer resort for people from all parts of the lower Rio Grande country. A large number of Brownsvillians have summer residences here, which they occupy during the hottest months. There are several restaurants and a hotel for the visitors who drop down for the day to enjoy the refreshing gulf breezes and partake of an excellent dinner of seafood, including oysters, which are as good in summer as in winter in this low latitude.

The Rio Grande Railroad is a narrow gauge track from Point Isabel to Brownsville, a distance of approximately 22 miles. The country through which the road runs is full of lakes and salt marches, which overflow with water during a portion of the year in seasons of flood from the Rio Grande and heavy storms on the Gulf of Mexico. Passenger traffic is light, never heavy enough to require more than one train daily, composed of two or three freight cars and a coach. The depot at Brownsville is a spacious frame building with wide platforms on three sides.

Brownsville is a city of approximately 10,000 inhabitants pleasantly situated on the north bank of the Rio Grande, opposite the Mexican city of Matamoros, whose spires are plainly visible across the boundary. The city is regularly laid out in blocks. A large majority of the dwellings are substantial in structure and pleasing in style of architecture, thus attesting to the financial prosperity and refined tastes of the owners. The abundance of tropical plants and shade trees, which literally embower most of the private residences in perennial verdure, lend a charm which must be experienced to be fully appreciated.

Santa Maria is a town of 300 and is about 25 miles west as the crow flies. The steamboat landing is at the foot of a cultivated corn field stretching away from the river. The Mexican laborers on this place are thoroughly trained to do things in a thrifty fashion. Such training is of infinite value in this section. The sub-post is garrisoned by a small detachment of United State troops from Fort Brown. The troops are changed every month, their military duties consisting of scouts up and down the river as well as repairing the military telegraph line connecting Fort Brown and Fort Ringgold.

Hidalgo, or Edinburg as it is commonly called, is 60 miles from Brownsville. It has a population of 400. The town presents a very attractive appearance and is especially remarkable for the scarcity of jacales. This is owing to the fact that most of the old town has been washed away by the Rio Grande. There are a number of handsome homes in the central portion of the town. Some are of brick burned in the vicinity, but the majority are frame buildings.

Rio Grande City is 90 miles from Brownsville and has a population of 2,500. The county court house occupies a commanding site on a hill overlooking the town and presents an imposing appearance when viewed from the lower end. The street along the riverbank is called Water Street and the next is Laredo Street. The latter is the main street and extends for about half a mile from east to west. The scenes that meet the eye are tinged with the Mexican characteristics, which predominate throughout the town.

Fort Ringgold is one-half mile from Rio Grande City. It was named in honor of Brevet Major David Ringgold, who was killed during the the first battle of the Mexican-American War. The site was originally selected on account of its advantages as a post of observation of the Mexican town of Camargo. The post has an excellent system of water works, which furnishes ice and condensed water, two luxuries which are thoroughly appreciated. The isolation of the post is one of its detractions.

Roma, 30 miles from Rio Grande City, now has 1,000 inhabitants. It is one of the most compact and picturesque towns of its size along the Rio Grande. Some persons compare it to a hamlet along the Rhine, owing to its situation upon a high bluff and the arrangement of the houses calling to mind the walled towns and castled heights of the Fatherland. A steamboat brings freight to the landing at high stages of water. During other seasons freight is hauled over the excellent road from Rio Grande City.

I hope you forgive me, mother, for my geography lesson, but I wanted to communicate to you as best I could that I'm both safe and happy. Mexico is tranquil. Its president, Porfirio Diaz, is praised throughout the world as man who has brought calm to the chaos. I miss you very much, but I must confess that I'm infatuated with my surroundings. I don't know how long I will remain at Fort Brown. There is talk that my regiment will soon transfer to Fort McIntosh in Laredo for six months. There is also talk about the Philippines. I pray not, but they say that the war has never ended there. I love you very much. Give my regards to everyone. 

YAYA DEL MARI

I wasn't your father,

but for a brief time in our lives

you were my daughter.

Did you lack for anything?

Didn't I devote many hours to you?

Didn't I impart good advice to you,

particularly regarding the art of tipping?

When you smash a winner down the line,

do you remember who taught you tennis?

Did I ask for anything in return?

No. Nothing.

To hear you call me "Daddy-O"

with a warmth that welled from your heart

more than recompensed my love for you.

DIRECTOR SCOUTS BROWNSVILLE

John Durst, the director of cult thrillers Three Pennies Too Many and Miss Smith's Rotting Cadaver, visited Brownsville with the intention of finding a suitable town for the filming of his new movie, Diarrhea Soup.

"I'm looking for a locale where desperation reigns and the inhabitants will do anything to survive," said Durst as he drank a beer and ate a hamburger at the Palm Lounge.

"Brownsville rates at the top of the selection list. The mayor told me we would never find a seedier town and he's absolutely right. In my travels throughout the nation I have never seen the look of hopelessness in so many eyes that I have seen in Brownsville.

"It's a dirty place, which is a requisite for the movie. I can't believe I'm in the United States when I walk the streets of this sad city. The standard of living, I'm sure, is much higher in Central America than here."

Durst's story centers on a community succumbing in droves to a rampant and virulent cancer as a result of corrupt politicians cutting a deal with a chemical factory that pours toxins into the atmosphere.

"I didn't think I could find a Third-World City in this nation to make my movie, but I was wrong," continued Durst. "I feel sorry for the people who live here permanently. There is so much misery. At least I'll be able to hire extras cheap."